“She couldn’t keep quiet,” says her partner Sonya Subbotino. “Sasha had friends in Kyiv. She was teaching kids at the Ukrainian summer camp how to make movies and act. She was really scared for them.” It was shortly after the bombing of the theater in Mariupol. A customer at the supermarket reported her to the police. Image: Ms Skochilenko ‘couldn’t keep quiet’ says partner Sonya Subbotino She has since been remanded in custody, accused of spreading false news about the Russian armed forces. If the state shows no leniency, and Russian justice is rarely lenient, he could face up to 10 years in prison. Image: Ms Skochilenko is pictured in custody With a grainy television screen in the courtroom from her jail cell, Skochilenko’s voice cracks with emotion as she sees Sonya and a handful of other friends. They have a brief audience with her before another preliminary hearing begins and are eager to tell her they love her. Skochilenko’s long dark hair and the bars of her cell highlight how drawn she looks, the only flash of color coming from a huge red heart on her T-shirt. Her friends encompass St. Petersburg’s liberal, artsy scene—rainbow hair, peace sign tote bags. On the other side of the courtroom: burly men in uniforms. An unforgettable image of the state against Russia’s shrinking protest movement. David vs. Goliath, with Goliath far on top. As of February 24, nearly 200 people face criminal charges for anti-war protests, including online expressions of dissent, with 3,300 administrative cases filed for discrediting the Russian armed forces. Image: Walk the streets of St. Petersburg and you’d hardly get the feeling that things were going wrong Earlier this month, Moscow city councilor Alexei Gorinov was banned for seven years – the first to be convicted under draconian new “fake news” legislation. Others, such as Skochilenko or prominent political figures such as Ilya Yashin or Vladimir Kara-Murza, are in custody awaiting trial, the initial attention to their arrests diminished by an endless stream of court cases, legal proceedings and additional charges. Walk the streets of St. Petersburg and you will hardly get the feeling that things were not right. Summer is in full swing. Restaurant terraces are filled with geraniums and girls in bright dresses. Pleasure boats fall along the famous Nevsky River, creating a wake. It’s the same story in Moscow, and probably elsewhere throughout Russia. Summer, five months in. Every now and then, though, there’s a reminder. A piece of graffiti is smeared in red on a billboard saying: “Have a nice day – and keep pretending nothing’s happening around you!” Image: A St. Petersburg artist came up with the idea of ”malinkey picket” or “little picket” A fountain turns red in Moscow in memory of a teenager killed in Kharkiv. A minor protest, enough to perhaps jolt a few passers-by out of their reverie, if they’re into it. This is the idea behind the “malinkey picket” or “little picket” – the brainchild of another St. Petersburg artist. It’s an Instagram page where people post pictures of their mini-pickets, mostly plasticine figures they’ve placed in public spaces. “Send us your little braves, tag us and we’ll post them all,” the instructions say. “In the first weeks when the war started, most of my friends and people I know were at a loss for words,” says its creator. “The next step was whether to leave Russia or not. Today I think the conflict is about normalization. It’s about ‘do I see war or not?’” He doesn’t like what’s going on, but he believes the situation in Ukraine — and other world conflicts — has more to do with neoliberalism gone awry than because his president sent in the troops. He says he is more interested in the concept of protest than what people are protesting about. Image: This little figure’s sign reads: “In five years everyone in Russia will be ashamed for believing a madman and his propaganda” He is not sure that the state is responsible for the inability of people to protest in Russia. A conversation with him dances around points that seem obvious, taking detours to the dangers of algorithms and the dilemmas of our vaporized societies. It feels like an exercise in avoiding harsh truths. The details on his Instagram page, however, have a more direct message. “Wage war on poverty, not Ukraine,” says one. “Ukraine is not our enemy,” says another. A brave little figure with round, startled eyes we manage to spot in the St. Petersburg canal where he has been placed. It’s hard to find if you’re not looking for it, but it carries a powerful message. “In five years everyone in Russia will be ashamed for believing a madman and his propaganda,” reads his banner.
